


Oh, Hello

by Adamarks



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Dragon Simon, First Kisses, Love at First Sight, M/M, Vampires, baz is wearing a 1950s neck scarf, kidnapping but like fun and silly, not once but twice, simon has no survival instinct, simon loses his shirt, vampire cults, well okay half dragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-24 09:37:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21097334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adamarks/pseuds/Adamarks
Summary: Oh.Hello.Where have you—I’ve just been—It’s me—It’s you.-Simon Snow, it's time to start your next story.





	1. Where have you been?

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate the large amount of male titty cleavage in this fic to Kris and Peach. I thank Amelia for being a person that exists and for watching my terrible brain dump out words and saying "Yeah!" And lastly, I'd like to thank Science Fiction/Double Feature for playing on constant repeat for 4 hours, without which I wouldn't have been able to write at all.

_ Sometimes the universe makes us wait.  _

_ Sometimes the universe makes us work.  _

_ Don’t worry though, love.  _

_ That just means  _

_ you’re about to start your next big story.  _

  
  
  


Simon Snow is the boy that was. 

He fought himself, defeated an evil man, and filled a gaping void. Simon Snow’s big epic tale is over. 

It’s been three years, and honestly, he’s over it. His life’s not a story. It’s just a life. A fucked up, weird-ass life. He’s okay with it. 

He wasn’t okay at first. He thought he’d lost his meaning. He’d lost his purpose. He was useless. He was a shell. A shell with wings and a tail and scales and the terrifying ability to breathe fire. But a shell nonetheless. 

Around six months ago, Simon got fucking sick of feeling sorry for himself. 

He bought self help books. He took a fucking shower. He went back to therapy. He got his shit together. 

It was so hard. It was brutal and awful and sometimes he cried so hard he was worried he’d turn to water. But all that happened was that he cried himself raw. He scrubbed out the inside of his heart with tears and elbow grease and anger and  _ work.  _ Simon Snow put himself back together piece by piece until he resembled something presentable, and by  _ god  _ if he isn’t proud of it. 

It’s still hard some days. He’s still constantly finding specs of dirt in a heart he’d thought he’d scoured. But he doesn’t give up. He just cleans those too. 

Simon Snow lives for himself now, and he’s not gonna go back to the dark place he used to live in just because some old fuck hurt him so long ago. 

Simon works at a bakery now. He’s been here for three months so far, and he loves it. 

He loves the smell, the atmosphere, being able to  _ make  _ something. Something tangible. Sure, the customers can be shit, but his boss is nice. And the pay is good. 

Simon Snow is well on his way to being happy. 

He’s leaning on the counter now. There’s a very pale couple browsing some of the single desserts they have laid out. They keep peeping at Simon in a very shifty manner. He just stares at them, bored. (His bored expression is usually enough to deter most shoplifters.) (He’s not the friendliest looking bloke.) 

The front door swings open and a woman somewhere in her thirties saunters in. She’s wearing heavy-looking Doc Martens and a heavier-looking leather duster. She has a white streak in her hair. Simon muffles a yawn. Only half an hour until close. 

The biker chick starts perusing the bagels when a guy walks in. He looks like the biker chick but he’s pale as a ghost. He’s wearing snug expensive-looking jeans and a more-expensive-looking floral shirt that’s only a button shy of being unbuttoned to his navel. He’s also wearing a neck scarf like a lady from the fifties. 

Simon’s suddenly not bored anymore. The man’s possibly the most beautiful thing he’s seen in weeks, months. Ever. And he’s seen the Lady of the Lake. 

He tries not to stare to blatantly as Mr. Gorgeous peruses the little cakes. He must be related to the woman or something because they mumble to each other and she tosses him a cranberry-apple-walnut turnover at him before flapping her hand at him to pay. He glowers at her and strides up to the counter with all the grace and pomp of a queen miffed. 

He puts the baked good on the counter and they finally make eye contact. The air wooshes right out of Simon’s lungs. 

_ Oh.  _

_ Hello.  _

_ Where have you— _

_ I’ve just been— _

_ It’s me— _

_ It’s you.  _

Simon’s pretty sure his stomach has dropped out some secret hatch in his backside and is now making a break for it. At least the guy looks similarly gutted. His lips are open, just a tad. He has nice lips. 

How long have they been staring at each other? It could be years by now. Simon  _ wishes  _ he’d had the pleasure of seeing that face for years upon years. He swallows thickly and turns dumbly towards the register. 

He reads out the amount and stares at the man the whole time. His hair is so long. It looks soft. He probably uses expensive shampoo. 

“Um, yes,” he says, digging in his pockets for his wallet. His voice is deeper than Simon expected, but just as silky as he anticipated. He fumbles with his wallet a bit and his cheeks go ever-so-slightly pink. Simon’s trying desperately to figure out how to ask out a customer. How to ask out  _ this  _ customer. Before he leaves. Oh, god. He can’t leave. 

He hands over his card and Simon takes it. He feels stupid about noticing that their hands touch. 

Simon’s just about to put the card in the reader when suddenly the pale couple bolts out the door. The middle aged lady whirls around. “Baz, let’s go!” She hollers, and then she’s out the door too. The man looks between the door and Simon quickly before giving in. “Sorry,” he says, and then he’s rushing out the door too. 

Simon stands there, wide-eyed, alone in the shop. 

He looks down at the counter. 

_ Oh, he forgot his pastry _ , he thinks. 

He looks at his hand. 

_ Oh fuck, he forgot his card.  _

The next thing Simon knows, he’s grabbing his keys, vaulting the counter, switching the sign to “closed,” and locking the door behind him. 

The guy went right. Simon goes right. 

_ His name is Baz,  _ he thinks.  _ The lady called him Baz.  _

With every puff of air into the cool night he thinks his name.  _ Baz, Baz, Baz, Baz.  _

_ Gotta see Baz again.  _

He can’t let this one go. 

He hears a scream and he instinctively turns down the alley it came from. He arrives just in time to see a vampire go up in flames. The other vampire hisses. Baz turns at the sound of Simon’s footsteps. He slows to a stop, the credit card still held stupidly in his hand. 

He stands there, panting. Baz has a ball of flame hovering just above his hand. The lady turns around and sees him too. 

“Oh,  _ fuck,”  _ she says. 

The vampire breaks a window and climbs through. Baz blinks like he’s just been brought back from a deep hypnosis. 

“Oh,  _ fuck!”  _ She yells again. 

“You… forgot your card,” Simon says. 

Baz’s eyebrows rise and a little smile of disbelief creeps onto his face. 

Somewhere, a church bell rings. 

Simon’s wings explode from his back. 

“Ah, shit,” he says. There goes this shirt. 


	2. I've just been here.

The lady’s swearing up a colorful storm. Baz still has a little ball of fire floating in his hand. Simon’s staring forlornly at his ripped up shirt— he’d really liked that one. 

With a sigh, he removes the ripped up article and puts it in a nearby dumpster. “Goddamn fucking bullshit,” the lady is saying. She whirls on Baz, “Take care of this fucking mess, Basil.” She whips up her wand and bellows, “ **Ready or not, here I come!** ” She follows the light trail that appears where the vampire was with purpose. 

“Fix this window,” she growls at Baz— or maybe it’s Basil? Simon might’ve heard wrong the first time— after she climbs through it, and then she disappears. 

The little flame in Baz/Basil’s hand finally flickers out. “ **Good as new,** ” he says blankly to the window. The window oozes and shifts until the pane of glass is, well, good as new. 

“So,” he says. “Wings.”

Simon nods slowly. “Your card,” he remembers. He walks over and hands it to him. He takes it. 

“You didn’t have to run it to me,” he says. His mouth is pinching like it wants to creep into a smile. 

_ I did, _ Simon thinks.  _ I had to see you again. _

“Just seemed easier,” he says instead. 

Baz/Basil tilts his head as if to concede the point. His eyes dance over Simon’s wings (he feels them shudder), down to his tail, and they land on Simon’s chest. His chest became covered with scales the night Mage tried to stab him— to take his magic. Penny asked later why he didn’t think up armor to protect his heart instead. He’s still not sure why. 

The scales had spread all the way down his arms to his hands. He’s figured out how to put those away when he wants to, but it takes effort, and those are the only things he’s managed to hide and uncover by himself. 

“What exactly are you, then?” Baz/Basil asks. 

“Bit rude,” Simon replies. 

He just raises an eyebrow. Simon takes a breath. Wipes his palms on his jeans. 

“So—“

The wall to Simon’s left explodes into blazing flames. He doesn’t even think before he grabs Baz— fuck it, he’s calling him Baz—and wraps his wings around him. Being fireproof has its perks. 

He raises his head a little and he’s looking at Baz’s face. His eyes are lit up and Simon can feel the press of his chest as he breathes. 

“What are you?” He asks. He sounds a little bit entranced. 

Simon’s not sure why he feels the need to be coy, but he does. A grin sneaks its way onto his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he murmurs and wraps his arm around Baz’s waist just a little tighter. 

A wicked smile works its way onto Baz’s face and Simon’s heart stutters and his tail flicks. 

“Get back here, you fucker!” 

Simon turns to look, and Baz slivers out of his wings. 

“Fiona, what the  _ fuck _ are you doing?” He yells. 

“Doing all of the goddamn  _ work _ around here!” She fires back. 

Something zips by Simon. The woman—Fiona— starts to scream, “Look out!” but Simon’s already being thrown to the ground, his head cracking harshly. Just as quickly, he's dragged up, his wings pinned, his tail stepped on, and his hands held at the wrists. He's still dizzy from hitting his head, but he vaguely gives kudos to the vampire for being so thorough. Not everyone would think of the tail. 

“Stop right there or I'll tear this boy’s throat out!” Simon can feel his breath on his neck. Ick. 

“Shit,” Fiona mutters. 

Simon just sighs and shuts his eyes. His brow furrows as scales grow out to over his neck and arms. “What the fuck,” says the vampire. 

Simon can't turn his head to light this motherfucker up. His wings are wedged just so and it hurts. 

He opens his eyes and looks over to catch Baz’s. Baz lifts his eyebrows. Simon glances at the vampire before looking back to Baz. Baz sets his jaw before casting “ **Burn, baby, burn!** ” The vampire tries to bite but his fangs just glance off Simon’s scales before he goes up like flash paper. 

Simon steps away and flaps his wings to get the vampire dust off of him. He reaches up and touches the back of his head. His hand comes away bloody. He can't find it in him to feel more than mildly inconvenienced, though. 

Fiona stares at Simon for a moment and he's sure she’s going to comment. She doesn’t. She whips her head to Baz and says, “I found out where they’re meeting.” 

Baz glances at Simon. “Where?” He asks. 

Fiona glares at Simon and whispers the answer so he can’t hear. 

Baz’s face crumples up in confusion. “Why Brick Lane?” 

She smacks him on the back of the head. “Say goodbye to your weird-ass boyfriend, Basil. I’m catching us a cab.” She struts towards the street and glares daggers at Simon the whole time. Simon glowers back on instinct. 

Baz walks up to him after she’s at the main road and quietly casts “ **Get Well Soon** .” Simon’s head stops pounding. 

“My name’s Simon,” he blurts. 

Baz bites his lip, but he’s still smiling. “It’s ‘Baz,’ not ‘Basil.’” He says. 

“Yeah?” Simon feels breathless. 

“See you… around,” Baz says. 

Then he’s running towards a cab, and Simon’s left staring for the second time that night. 

With a mighty beat of his wings, he lifts off the ground and flies back towards the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned- will simon ever get another shirt? What happened to the cranberry-apple-walnut turnover? find out tomorrow on: whatever this is.


	3. Waiting For You

Simon had to cut holes in the back of his sweatshirt for his wings. He’s been shuffling around the shop awkwardly trying to hide them while cleaning up. 

He left Baz go  _ again. _ He shoves his phone in his pocket and locks the money drawer. 

He didn’t even  _ try  _ to get his number. He shuffles away the notepad and pens into their spots. He stares at the counter. There sits Baz’s pastry. 

Simon turns off the lights and looks back at the counter. 

There still sits the cranberry-apple-walnut turnover. 

He’d said “Brick Lane.” 

Simon delicately puts the turnover in a bag, locks the door, and begins the flight to Brick Lane. 

He lands with a thump in an alleyway. He squeaks his wings into his sweatshirt— he buys all of his hoodies and sweatshirts three sizes too big in case of such emergencies— and puts up his hood. 

He wanders out onto the street, the glow of neon signs light up the road and the voices of tourists act as a steady thrum of white noise. 

Simon has realised he doesn’t know where to look. 

Penny was usually the one to take the lead at this point. She was the brains and he was the brute force of the operation. 

He purses his lips and comes up with the idea to just aimlessly walk around until he finds someone that looks pale as death and ready for murder. 

It doesn’t take as long as one might think. 

A lady looking entranced is lured away by a pale woman with even paler hair. Simon sneaks behind them, keeping a distance. The pale woman opens a door in a wall and they both disappear through it. 

Still clutching the turnover, Simon creeps up to the door and nudges it open. It’s dark as death inside. He edges his way into the opening and stands, bracing for an attack. When nothing happens he takes one more step. 

Then another. 

And another. 

Something rips at his arm. He whips his head towards it. Fills his lungs. Feels the click in his throat. 

Fire comes spitting out of his gaping mouth in an angry roar. Whatever touched him goes up in smoke and someone screams, “He’s a  _ dragon! _ ”

He elbows someone in the face. Kicks out someone else’s legs. Gets a good punch in. He has to wait for whatever pocket of gas that lays in his chest to refill. 

There’s too many of them and Simon wasted his firepower on one vampire. And he doesn’t have a sword. Next thing he knows, his head is being rammed against a brick wall. He has the wherewithal to worry about the turnover getting smashed before it all goes black. 

-

When Simon wakes up, his hoodie is gone; his shoes have been removed (they left his socks on at least); all of his limbs are strapped to a cold stone table; and there’s an iron gag over his mouth. 

All-in-all, this wasn’t how he was planning on his night panning out. 

He lets out a sigh through his nose and stares at the ceiling. Penny’s gonna be pissed that he got kidnapped without her. She’s been bored lately. He can tell. 

The “strapped to a stone table” thing feels very cultish to him. Agatha was kidnapped by a cult once in 5th year. She was at least pleased with the elegant gown they were going to kill her in. Simon didn’t even get an elegant gown. He’s feeling very jipped. All he’s gotten is an aching back, pounding head, and busted lip. 

A vampire in a long black cloak wanders in and stands over Simon. Agatha’s cult had had flowing robes with fancy insignia. Go figure he’d be kidnapped by the low budget vampire cult. 

The vampire looks at him coldly. “When you kill a dragon, you can open a door to the underworld. With your death, our master shall be granted  _ passage— _ “

Simon rolls his eyes and stops listening. Being kidnapped is fucking  _ boring _ . No wonder Agatha hated it so much. 

If his shoes are gone, so’s Baz’s turnover. Now he doesn’t even have an excuse for being strapped to a table aside from wanting a date. 

Not that a pastry is a much better excuse but it feels a little more dignified. 

Simon sees the irony of pondering dignity whilst strapped to a table.

What kind of date does he want to ask Baz on anyway? Coffee would seem dumb after all of this. A movie? Are there any good movies showing right now? That seems terribly boring after setting a guy on fire while he threatened to rip out your throat. 

How does one top a cult kidnapping anyway? Dinner? Do you top cults with a fancy dinner? 

Baz’s outfit looked so expensive Simon’s sure he couldn’t afford a dinner that Baz would find fancy. 

The vampire must’ve given up on his monologue while Simon was thinking, because now he’s being wheeled out onto a stage or something. 

A light shines in the middle and they cart him over to it. The vampire starts preaching again and the table is tilted until Simon’s more perpendicular to the ground than parallel to it. 

“Brothers!” 

“ _ Sexist,” _ Penny would say. Simon agrees. He knows there’re girl vampires here. This guy’s just being a douche. 

“With this sacrifice, we will finally see our Great Lord—“ Simon rolls his eyes  _ again.  _ He’ll have to apologize to Agatha for never understanding why she lived in a permanent state of exasperation. Being kidnapped sucks. 

His eyes roam over the crowd. They stop abruptly when they pick out  _ Baz  _ wearing a dark hood and looking deeply concerned. 

_ Oh,  _ Simon thinks, a tad flirtily, wishing Baz could hear it.  _ Hello.  _

Baz’s eyebrows ram downwards and his mouth drops open. 

_ Funny, it’s almost like he heard that.  _

Baz nods his head a little. 

Simon’s eyebrows go up. 

_ You can hear me?  _

Baz nods his head. 

_ Holy shit.  _

Baz raises his eyebrows in the universal “Yeah, no shit” look. 

Well that’s new. Who knew dragons could do  _ this.  _

_ I wanted to give you your turnover.  _

That makes Baz look skyward before burying his face in his hands. 

_ Obviously it backfired.  _

Baz’s shoulders lift in a huffed laugh. 

_ This table’s uncomfortable.  _

Baz lifts his head a little, and Simon can see from his eyes that he’s smiling. 

Suddenly, a woman next to Baz rips off his hood and screams about how he’s infiltrating or something. 

_ Guess it’s bad manners to flirt during the cult meeting.  _

Baz’s mouth pinches in an effort to not laugh and he side-eyes Simon quick before whipping his wand into the air and yelling, “ **Disco Inferno!** ”

The whole place lights up with multicolored fire that dances around and lights choice vampires on fire. Chaos ensues. Simon’s dropped back down so he’s horizontal again before being carted off the stage. 

Whoever’s driving the table rams him into a wall on accident. It jerks him and makes his head throb. 

He’s shoved into a room and the door is closed behind him, encasing him in darkness. 

He thinks about the smile in Baz’s eyes and decides this night’s been worth it. 

This room smells of mould and death. Crowley. Oddly enough, he’s not been afraid he wouldn’t make it to tomorrow  _ once  _ this evening. And he still isn’t. Then it dawns on him why that is: 

_ This is the story of how we met _ . 

That thought makes his heart swell— just like all the thoughts that you just  _ know  _ are right do. 

Maybe his life isn’t  _ a  _ story. Maybe it’s just a multitude of them. 

He thinks this might be his favourite one so far. 

_ I wonder if I can talk to Baz if I can’t see him.  _

He tries to remember what it felt like to talk directly into Baz’s head. The specific feeling of talking to him. His smile. 

He feels out with his mind, and suddenly he just  _ knows _ what’s happening outside. Vampires are heading for the hills, fighting, burning. The leader’s been killed. He feels Baz. Feels the vibrations of his feet as he runs. Feels his voice as it sings spells. 

It’s like being a snake on steroids. 

“ _ Baz, be careful! You’re flammable!”  _ That was Fiona. 

Flammable? Oh, so Baz is a… huh. 

Simon pictures Baz dressed in Victorian garb, about to bite some poor lady’s neck. 

No, that’s rather hot, actually. 

Simon sends out his directions and waits. 

Approximately fifteen minutes later, Baz  **open sesame** ’s the door open and Simon tries his best to crane his neck back to see him. 

He stands at Simon’s head and looks down at him. “Oh, hello there,” he says sarcastically. Simon does his best to smile from under an iron gag. 

“What  _ are  _ you, Simon?” He asks as he spells off the gag. 

“Half dragon. On accident,” Simon replies. 

Baz removes the rest of the restraints and helps Simon stand up. “How do you manage to be half dragon on  _ accident _ ?” 

Simon flutters his wings. They’d really hurt being strapped down like that. “I’ll tell you over coffee?”

Baz huffs and the smile on his face is small but radiant. “Simon, if you take me out to  _ coffee _ after this we’re both going to be disappointed.” 

Simon laughs and Baz grabs his hand to pull him down the hallway after him. 

“We could see a film?” Simon calls as they start ascending a staircase. 

“There’s nothing good playing right now!” 

They burst into a restaurant and run right through it before going up another flight of stairs. 

“Shopping date?” He suggests. 

Baz kicks down the door to the roof.  _ Fuck  _ he’s hot. 

“You are  _ not  _ ready to go shopping with me yet!” He says. Simon’s cheeks hurt from smiling.

He lets go of Simon’s hand and runs to the edge of the roof and to look around for a way to escape. 

Simon rushes over as scoops him up like a princess. “Dinner?” He suggests as he jumps off the roof. 

Baz has his neck in a death grip as Simon starts flying them far away from the vampire death cult. 

“I think we should have a picnic,” Baz says. “We can go to the country this weekend.” 

“That’ll work,” Simon agrees. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip ms. turnover. she'll be missed.


	4. To Come Find Me

Simon lands them on the top of a hotel about three kilometers away. He’s pooped. And a little bit chilly. 

Baz sits down and holds his cloak open with a space for Simon to curl into. Simon scoots in and tucks a wing around Baz. 

“Who are you?” Baz asks when they’re both situated. Simon hasn’t wanted to say his last name. Baz is a magician. He’ll know who he is. 

But if this is their story…

“Simon Snow.” 

Baz’s jaw drops. “Merlin,” he says. 

Simon stares at the ground, his jaw clamped. He has to make an effort to relax it. 

“I’m the old headmistress’s son.” 

Simon looks up at him. “Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. I stayed at home and had private tutors,” he says. 

_ Why?  _ Simon forgets to say it out loud. 

Baz looks at him, measuring. “You’re a terrible hybrid. You’re not allowed to murder me for this.” 

“Can’t date you if I murder you,” he replies. 

Baz snorts and opens his mouth. Two long fangs stick out. Simon already guessed, but seeing and guessing are two different things. 

Simon brings a finger up and touches the side of one. 

“ _ Sick,” _ he says. 

Baz looks at him like he’s grown a second head. 

“You just killed at least twenty vampires. I think you’re trustworthy.” 

“You trust too easily.”

“I don’t. It’s just you.”

Baz looks down, bashful, and Simon stares at his profile. 

“I know this is only the first date and all—“ 

“You have a very misconstrued concept of what a date is—“

“—but could we kiss now? Or do I have to wait for the picnic?”

Baz giggles and Simon drinks it in like it’s the only time he’ll get to see it. Or maybe it’s just the only time he’ll get to see it for the first time. 

“We can kiss now, Simon.” 

“Oh, thank magic,” he mumbles. And then he’s cupping his cheek and Baz’s hands are coming up to his chest and they’re kissing, kissing, kissing. And it’s the first of a thousand. The first of a million. 

-

“I can’t believe you got kidnapped  _ without me! _ ” Penelope yells. 

“I really didn’t mean to,” Simon says, poking at his phone. He got home twenty minutes ago shirtless, shoeless, well-kissed, and smiling like a loon. Penny demanded an immediate explanation. 

“It was just a cult anyway. They didn’t even give me a fancy dress like Agatha got.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s still a  _ vampire  _ cult _ ,  _ Simon. That’s exciting!  _ And  _ now you’re telepathic!” 

“I had to have always been telepathic,” he retorts. “I just didn’t know it.” Penny’s going to experiment with his new-found superpower tomorrow. He doesn’t mind. It’ll be fun figuring it out. 

(It’s not just Penny that’s been kind of bored.)

“Is it too soon to text him?” He asks. They exchanged numbers before Simon dropped Baz back down onto the street. 

“Oh yes, ‘what will my new bloodsucking boyfriend think if I come on too strong?’” Penny snarks. 

He doesn’t have to make a choice to text him. A message pops up and he pokes it faster than he’s ever poked anything in his life. 

His face lights up and Penelope pushes over to see what the text says. 

_ I might be coming on strong, but that was the best first date I’ve ever had.  _

“Great snakes,” Penny mumbles. “What a pair.”

  
  
  


Simon Snow has started a new story. It’s not his epic tale of pain and adventure. That book has been written and put on a shelf. 

Simon Snow has started his love story, and it’s his favourite love story that’s ever been told. 

  
  


_ Sometimes the universe makes us wait. Sometimes the universe makes us work. Sometimes the universe makes us run.  _

_ Don’t worry though, love.  _

_ It’s just its way of getting us to the next good thing.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I’m on tumblr with the exact same name.


End file.
